


Life Will Be the Death of Me

by ceirdwenfc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:24:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceirdwenfc/pseuds/ceirdwenfc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What did happen to Dean after he died in Mystery Spot?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Will Be the Death of Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was the inspiration: thewinchesterswagger: "in mystery spot when dean died 100 times, what if each time death was the one who took him. what if they had a little bonding session every time he died and got closer but then dean forgot everything when gabriel set things right. what if that’s why death has a soft spot for dean because they were once bffs" and where I reblogged it: http://ceirdwenfc.tumblr.com/post/45215750013/castielswaywardtimelady-thewinchesterswagger#notes
> 
> (additional notes at the end of the story)

In seconds, it went from black to light. Bright, white light and he blinked to adjust his eyes. There was a shadow very close to him, reaching a darkened arm for him. Dean's chest was pounding; he'd never felt anything like it.

"Dean."

The voice was gentle, soft, kind even, but firm. Dean instinctively didn't want to listen; he turned to find Sammy, but the hand touched him and he was stilled. His eyes came into focus.

He didn't resist the hand on his forearm. The man was well-dressed, black suit, perfectly pressed, tie straight, his severe features matching his just-so in place hair, but despite that, Dean felt very calm.

While his one hand continued to grip Dean, he waved his other hand over Dean's chest, and the pain vanished.

Dean looked down and then up, his jaw dropping slightly.

"Where am I?" he asked defiantly.

"Come with me, Dean."

Dean began to follow and everything went black again.

**OOO**

When Dean's eyes adjust to the bright, white light, there is a man in a dark suit in front of him. He's standing and Dean is on the floor, his body twisted and his legs not working. He didn't feel anything; he thought he should have felt some pain.

Hell, a lot of pain, but there wasn't anything.

"Dean?"

"Who are you? Where am I?"

The man crouched in front of him and waved his hand over Dean's legs, and then followed the line of his spine. Dean heard nothing, felt nothing, but in seconds, his body was working and with help from the man in the dark suit, he stood.

"Who are you?" Dean asked in a serious tone, but not wanting to offend the man who just repaired his body, he tried to keep his curiosity in check with his rising concern that he was not in Kansas anymore; or Florida as the case may be.

"This is very unusual, Dean. You were just here yesterday."

"Yesterday?"

"Yes."

There were more words, but they were drifting away and Dean was humming a familiar tune.

**OOO**

"Dean."

The voice sounded like an annoyed parent who just found his necktie around the dog as a leash.

"What are you doing here? Again?"

"Again? I've never been here before! Who the hell are you, Mister?!"

Dean couldn't move and there was a pencil stuck in his ear, but that disappeared and his body worked again when the man in the black suit ran his hand over Dean's splintered and bleeding body.

"What am I doing here? Who are you?"

The man in the black suit twisted his opal-stoned ring around his finger while he observed Dean's obvious discomfort. Their eyes met, and then the man introduced himself:

"Dean Winchester, I'm Death. And you, are very clearly dead. Although, this is your third trip here in three days, and I've not seen anything like this in eons."

"Dead?" Dean stumbled back, a stunned sound taking over his voice. "I'm not dead. I'm standing right here talking to you."

"Yes, well, I'm Death. Most people don't meet me until they die." He gestured towards Dean and tilted his head.

Dean felt a lurch in his stomach. He must have been hallucinating; he could have sworn he heard the man ask for a burger on his next trip down.

**OOO**

Dean tasted sausage as his eyes opened and adjusted to the bright light. He tried to spit it out, but there was nothing in his mouth. He looked around the room where he was sitting on the floor, and saw a man in a dark suit sitting in a chair.

"Did you bring the burger?"

"Burger? No. Sausage, I think. Was I supposed to? I could go for a burger. And pickle chips." Dean took one step towards the man. "Have we met? Because I sure don't remember you."

"No, you wouldn't. Only I have that pleasure it would seem. I’m Death. It's nice to meet you Dean Winchester. Again."

"Again? I can only die once."

"That's what I thought, but someone seems to be playing a trick on the both of us. And when I find out who it is, they're going to wish they met one of my brothers instead. Dean, sit down."

"I'd rather stand."

"Sit." The familiar tone reinforced that this was a command and Dean sat. He didn't even look to see if there was a chair behind him, but the nature of that voice was not to be questioned. "What were you doing before you arrived here?"

"I don't know. I was having breakfast. It's Tuesday. Pig in a Poke."

"How nice for you. And what were you talking about?"

"I don't know. I can't remember."

"You can remember 'pig in a poke' but not what you were talking about while you were choking down a sausage. Literally."

"Um….I guess that was more memorable than the conversation." Dean grinned at him, and that may have been the first time that Death saw Dean's dimples, but the only thing that Dean noticed was that he rolled his eyes like his mother did when he said something funny, only she didn't think it was funny.

There was something very comforting about this man, although Dean thought there really shouldn't have been.

**OOO**

Dean was flat on his back. He moved his hand around the puddle trying to figure out if that was his blood, but no, it wasn't sticky, so it must have been water. Why was he laying on the floor in a puddle of water? And why was his neck twisted that way? That should really be painful, shouldn’t it?

Suddenly, he felt fine. Neck back where it should be, puddle siphoned away and he was dry. _Hmm_ , he thought. He sat up and saw a man in a dark suit. He was pretty dapperly dressed except for his loosened necktie. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, not bothering to readjust it back into place and stared at Dean with the look of someone who was deciding how to torture the man who ran over his cat.

Dean spoke first. "I know we've only just met, but I can't tell if you're bored or angry." He tried to laugh, but the glare from the man made him cringe.

"To be honest with you Dean, I'm a little of both. Come," he called in a pretend cheerful voice and gestured towards the second chair. There was already a cold beer waiting and a burger from that place Dad used to take them. Dean jumped up and began to wolf down the burger as if it were his last meal.

"So, Dean, where do you want to go today? You've got about twelve hours."

"Twelve hours? Where am I?"

"Don't worry about that. Last time, well, to be precise, twenty-four hours ago, we went to the San Diego Zoo. You especially liked the orangutans. I can't imagine why."

There was a slight smirk on Death's face, but it changed into an actual smile, tight-lipped, but a smile nonetheless when Dean smiled.

"Niagara Falls."

"Niagara Falls?"

"I've never been. I've heard it's like Las Vegas. With water."

"Finish your burger, Dean."

**OOO**

"Why does my stomach hurt?" Dean groaned.

"So I guess you don't want this?" Death asked him, pointing to the burger waiting for him.

Death stifled a laugh as Dean dry-retched and shook his head most definitely in the no direction. He waved his arm and changed the pint of beer into water and helped Dean into his chair.

"You know," Dean said after downing about a third of the glass, "they go on about water into wine, but this really is much better for a sour stomach."

They sat in silence. Death was looking a bit mussed. Each time he came, Dean was beginning to remember little things from his previous days, but he still couldn't remember what was happening when he was with Sam. Was Sammy also going through Death's revolving door or was that reserved special for Dean? The fact that Death didn't know what was going on worried him.

"Where are you taking me today? It is your turn to pick, isn't it?"

"I thought a little educational excursion might do us some good."

Dean made that face as he drank the rest of his water. The face that should have been accompanied by an eye roll, but Mother taught you to respect your elders and you don't get more 'respect your elders' than Death himself, so Dean drank his water and internally made the face, and wondered how he would fake interest in this educational excursion.

"Really?" he asked after reading the leaflet.

Death nodded, and then nodded again towards the door.

Dean read the paper once more before entering the building: _OSHA's Electrical Safety Class for Beginners._

**OOO**

"Why do I smell char-grilled?"

"You didn't remember yesterday's workshop, did you?"

"Apparently not." Dean tilted his head, stuck out his hands, palms up, impatiently changing from one foot to the other. "Well. What are you waiting for?"

"A please might be nice."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Please."

"I saw that."

In an instant, Dean's clothes smelled fresh as a spring morning. He sat down and started in on the burger that was waiting for him.

"You almost never eat. Don't you want one? It's delicious." He could barely say the words with his mouth full.

"Too many of those aren't good for you. They'll be the death of me."

"That's funny."

"I'm a killer at –"

"Please stop! No more puns."

Death smiled and loosened his tie.

"Is there any way you can talk to Sam; find out what's going on?"

"Only if he dies. Is that an option?"

"No," Dean said with finality.

**OOO**

"My clothes are covered in blood! Was I shot again?!"

"Does it matter?"

"Actually, yes, it does."

With the motion of his hands, Death instantly cleans Dean up, removes the blood, mends the garments, closes the gaping wound in his head.

"Sit," he gestures.

Dean notices that he is a bit more formal, his shoes are polished, so no field trips today, he presumed. His tie was straight, his hair combed. He was not flustered, frustrated or vexed.

This worried Dean.

"No burger?"

"Not yet, Dean."

Dean crossed his arms across his chest. He puffed himself up as if he were four and Dad didn't want him to have that extra cookie, but if he stared him down, Mom would give it to him after he left.

"Dean, there is something you should know." He stopped speaking and looked over at Dean in a very gentle, very compassionate way.

Dean met his gaze and nearly burst into tears when he did. Dean knew. He didn't want to hear it, but it would have been very four-year-old to put his fingers in his ears and hum. He could still do that, couldn't he? He swallowed, but remained silent, waiting, not knowing, but knowing.

"Dean, I don't know when, but one of these days that you come here, you must know, Dean that you won't be leaving. You won't be holding onto this dual existence. You'll just be dead, and Sam will mourn and life for him will go on."

"Not for a long time, though." Dean's statement was wishful thinking and they both ignored it, but Death put a hand on Dean's hand, still crossed, resting on his other arm, and held it for a moment, and then moved to his knee, looking directly into his eyes as he said, "Sooner than you think."

**OOO**

"Why doesn't this hurt?"

"Do you want it to hurt, Dean?"

"No."

"That's why it doesn't hurt."

Dean looked down at his shredded hand. He could feel the blood sticky at his throat, still kind of dripping down his chest beneath his tattered shirt.

"I was gotten good, huh?" he laughed. "Werewolf?"

"Pet dog."

"You really know how to bring a guy down."

"It's in the job description," he answered with a smile, tracing the air around Dean's wounds until they and the dripping blood were gone.

"Not the clothes?"

"Not yet. Where would you like to go?"

"Go? I didn't think we did that anymore." Dean didn't look at Death while he readied the table. It was definitely busywork, something his mother would do before Dad came in, checking to see that everything was just so, and it almost always was, but sometimes not.

"I thought it would be a nice treat."

"It's my last visit, isn't it?"

Death met his stony glare, but said nothing, didn't nod, but he didn't need to. Dean had spent all of this time with him, talking and traveling and spying on reapers. He wanted to ask where he'd go tomorrow, but he didn't. It wasn't a courage thing. It wasn't. He knew that Death would be here just like he'd been here all the other times, but this time, there'd be no Sammy to go home to. Death would take him to a new place, and he had to hope that Sammy could take care of himself.

But what if he couldn't?

Dean forced himself to smile. He knew that Death had enjoyed this unexpected visitor as much as Dean had enjoyed what he thought was a respite.

Tomorrow was something different.

**Author's Note:**

> The title came from a song title from The Ordinary Boys and here is the list of the ways that Dean was killed in Mystery Spot, so you don't have to look them up: shotgun, run over by car, desk falls on him, chokes on sausage, slips in shower, food poisoning, electrocuted, ax, dog,)


End file.
